Necessary Evils
by Azul Tigress
Summary: Coach Boomer faces up to long buried feelings and discovers exactly how low he will go in his quest to find Ms Right. Inspired by the ‘secrets’ challenge.


**Necessary Evils**

A/N: Check out the 'Challenges' thread in the Sky High forum for details on the Secrets challenge.

This isn't a proper entry as I set the challenge, but I thought that I'd share anyway. And don't forget, if you want to enter you have until **Friday 24 August**!

_Disclaimer:_ Disney owns _Sky High_, I do not. And hopefully they have better things to spend their zillions on than suing lowly fanfic authors like me…

* * *

It was Mike Boomer's idea. He received a flyer from the agency a couple of weeks ago and had managed to convince Ivan Medulla and Jonathan Boy that it would be fun. Boomer smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and splashed on more cologne. As wingmen, Medulla and Boy were perfect. What woman would be able to resist his charms if the alternatives were Professor Melonhead and All-American Loser? 

Boomer had gone through several outfit changes, from his usual gym uniform with ever-present baseball cap to a whole variety of other clothing combinations, with and without the cap. But, he told himself as he put on his baseball cap for the umpteenth time, only to quickly remove it again, it wasn't because he was nervous. Boomer knew exactly what a catch he was. He pointed at his reflection and winked. He was looking damn fine, even if he thought so himself.

It wasn't easy being a single superhero, and as much as Boomer was loath to admit it, when you reached a certain age, eligible superpowered partners were thin on the ground. It was tempting to hook up with a citizen, but they weren't as hardy as heroes and had an annoying tendency to get kidnapped at inopportune moments. That's why the invitation from the Speed Dating Agency for Supers seemed like such an intriguing prospect. Boomer was aware it smacked slightly of desperation, but in this day and age, it was something of a necessary evil.

Having finally decided on what he was going to wear, Boomer shot another look at the mirror. He was about to make one lucky lady's night.

* * *

"I have an IQ of over 350. I highly doubt there will be a woman here with the ability to stimulate me," muttered Medulla. He curled his lip as he glanced around the venue, a private function room in one of Maxville's trendy bars. 

Boomer sniggered as he affixed his nametag onto his shirt.

"I mean _intellectually_," Medulla snapped, glaring at him.

Boy fidgeted with his tie and mumbled, "Uhhh… I didn't expect there to be so many people…"

Most of the participants were already seated. Boomer could almost hear the sound of superpowered biological clocks ticking away furiously. He chuckled to himself as he made his way to the table of his first date of the evening. This was going to be way too easy.

* * *

Date number one was a petite blonde who introduced herself as Amanda. Boomer just about managed to tell her his name before she started babbling away, barely pausing for breath. He nodded as Amanda droned on about Mr Snugglesworth, her chihuahua ("my baby"), her day job as a designer for pet clothes ("I've started a line in doggy hooded sweaters - they're just adorable!") and God only knew what else. Boomer had switched off after a couple of minutes. 

_Ugh, she's as boring as a box of rocks!_ Boomer thought. _But at least she has nice…_

Boomer started at the sudden silence from across the table. Amanda had ceased her inane chatter and was giving him a look that could strip paint.

"You pig! How dare you?"

"Wha-"

"You're not even listening to me!" Amanda said accusingly. "You think I'm boring and you don't seem to realise that my eyes are up _here_!"

_Oh craptastic, she's a freakin' psychic!_

Boomer had never quite mastered the art of barricading his mind against psychic attacks. He recalled vaguely something about taking deep, cleansing breaths and imagining big, empty spaces.

"Yes, I most certainly am!" A few heads were turning at the sound of Amanda's raised voice. "And _you_ represent everything that's wrong with men! I'm a person, not a piece of meat!"

_Well, why the hell wear a tight, low-cut top if you don't want people to look at your…_

His thoughts were cut short by Amanda's sharp intake of breath. Too late, Boomer filled his mind with visions of a wide, calm empty ocean.

"Pig!" Amanda shrieked, flinging her glass of wine over him before storming out.

The bell pinged and Boomer wiped his face with a napkin. The woman was crazy, he told himself, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Besides, it was time to move onto date number two.

A familiar face greeted Boomer at the next table. Diana Hunter, a fellow teacher at Sky High. Her superstrength was second only to the Commander's and the boys at the school both feared and lusted after her in equal measure. Boomer was glad that as a grown man he was no longer a slave to his hormones and therefore completely in control of the situation.

"Speed dating, huh, Diana?" he grinned as he sat down. "Never thought you'd be the type!"

Diana leaned close to him and motioned Boomer to get nearer. As he did so, he felt his pulse quicken. With her dark bronze skin, fierce black eyes and aura of unmistakable power, Diana was a strangely attractive woman. She grabbed hold of his tie and pulled. Hard.

"This will not be mentioned outside of this room," Diana said in a dangerous whisper, "or I shall tear you limb from limb and use said limbs to beat you until you scream for mercy."

"O-K," Boomer squeaked. He unsuccessfully tried to mask the unmanly, high-pitched noise with a cough. A mere two dates into the evening and Boomer had a fair idea as to why these female superheroes were finding it so hard to get a boyfriend.

By date number eight, he had serious fears for his sanity, if not his life.

But date number ten seemed nice. Rosie was pretty, charming and seemed mentally stable. All good in Boomer's book. Until…

"If I gave you my heart, would you promise to take care of it?"

Boomer laughed. The chick had to be kidding, right?

Rosie's expression, however, said differently. Boomer yelped as he felt something like a strong static shock run through him. Rosie's hair stood on end and crackled with electricity. A couple of blue sparks shot from her fingertips.

"Scared of commitment, just like the rest of them!" she spat, her eyes narrowed. "Why can't you just be a man?"

"Whoa there, Sparky!" said Boomer, holding up his hands. "I don't generally start picking out china patterns three minutes after meeting someone. Turn down the crazy a notch!"

He could scarcely contain his sigh of relief as the bell pinged again. His next date was a flame-haired beauty, who, to Boomer's surprise, also seemed to be quite intelligent. She gasped when Boomer informed her that he was a teacher at Sky High.

"Ohmigod! You work with Ivan Medulla?" she asked breathlessly as she looked across the room to where Boomer's Mad Scientist colleague was sitting.

"Uh-huh."

"Oh! Did you read his article on nanorobotics in the _International Journal of Mad Science_ last month? It was absolutely fascinating! He's done things with nanites that make me go positively weak at the knees!"

Boomer groaned.

_Great, _he groused in his head. _The best-looking woman in here turns out to be a_ _Mad Science fangirl_.

* * *

By the end of the evening, Medulla was at the bar wowing the leggy redhead with his knowledge on the latest in nanotechnology. Boomer ground his teeth in frustration. Medulla had a way with women that Boomer could never quite fathom. _Probably zaps them with some mind ray_, he thought uncharitably. Even the sidekick extraordinaire, Jonathan Boy, had found someone. True, she was the mousy, bespectacled type that Boomer wouldn't look twice at, but at least she seemed normal. 

OK, she seemed _relatively _normal, Boomer quickly corrected after she erupted into a wild fit of insane laughter at one of Boy's lame jokes. Jonathan looked quite disturbed at his female companion's extreme reaction and Boomer suddenly recognised her. She was formerly known as Deathcrow, one of the supervillainess Morrigan's most trusted henchwomen, but now she had reverted to the somewhat less threatening name of Joan. After a decade-long intensive villain rehabilitation program at Maxville High Security Penitentiary, Joan had crossed out 'widespread destruction and world domination' under her list of hobbies and replaced it with 'flower pressing and knitting', but clearly the blood-curdling cackling was harder to shift.

With a heavy sigh, Boomer stepped into the drizzly night. He needed to get out of there and above all else, he needed a drink. Unconsciously, he made his way across the city to a less salubrious part of downtown Maxville. An unpleasant feeling churned in his gut, but it wasn't jealousy. Those women were nuttier than a pack of squirrels at a peanut festival. Medulla and Boy were welcome to them. Maybe he _should_ go civilian. Civilian women were just as crazy as superheroines, but at least when they threatened to rip you up into tiny pieces for leaving your dirty socks on the floor they couldn't actually do it.

Boomer nodded at the doorman of Clubbering Time before entering it's smoky depths. It was a _specialist _drinking establishment. There was an unspoken agreement among Maxville's heroes and villains that Clubbering Time was a neutral zone. All supers needed somewhere they could go where they could be their true selves. Where abnormal was normal. Where no one would start screaming if someone spontaneously combusted or shot laser beams from their eyes. They were superhuman, but sometimes it was good just to feel… human. And to get as drunk as possible without compromising their secret identities.

The usual crowd of assorted down and outs and soaks had congregated in the basement bar, most of whom were drinking alone. Boomer did a double take when he saw the brunette perched on a stool at the bar. He blinked for a few seconds, wondering if some illusionist was at work. As far as he was aware, Estelle Powers was teetotal. But the number of empty glasses surrounding her suggested otherwise. She was knocking back vodka and tonic like it was water.

Boomer hung back for a moment. He knew that Estelle was prone to melancholy moods, though she generally hid it well from the other staff and students. Part of him wondered if it was best to leave her alone, but somehow he found himself pulling up the stool beside her.

"Hey, Estelle, lighten up! The night is young…"

Sky High's principal looked up briefly from her glass and snorted. "But we aren't, Mike." She took another swig of vodka. "Especially not me."

"Thirty-five isn't old, Estelle."

It was pure gorgonzola, but to Boomer's surprise Estelle actually giggled.

"Oh, stop," she said, blushing.

Boomer frowned as he gulped down the whisky and coke he ordered. Estelle Powers finding his cheesy lines amusing was a worrying sign.

They sat without talking. Out of a mixture of awkwardness and just to give himself something to do, Boomer found himself drinking more than he normally would and than perhaps was advisable.

"Don't you miss it sometimes?" Estelle asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Despite the vagueness of the question, Boomer instantly understood what she meant. All inactive heroes felt it. Usually it was dangerous, sometimes it was dirty, but there was nothing in the world that could compare to the thrill of saving the day.

"Of course."

Estelle Powers sighed as she added another empty glass to her growing collection. "I do. I wonder if I'm making a difference. If it's enough. If anything is ever enough."

Boomer shifted on the stool. This was moving into tricky territory. It was well known that Estelle went into teaching after her sidekick died in action. Her sidekick who also happened to be her sister. She never talked about it, at least not to him anyway, but Boomer suspected that it was something you could never really recover from.

_Why did I come over here?_ Boomer asked himself as he drank his whisky and coke, but he knew the answer. It was because Estelle seemed so strangely fragile, so alone. He couldn't have left her by herself. Heroes just didn't do that when someone needed rescuing. _He_ couldn't have done that to _her_…

"Hey, don't you start thinking like that. We do make a difference and it is enough, but we all doubt ourselves sometimes. I know those kids think that I'm some jumped up, clapped out old windbag who loves the sound of his own voice…" Boomer paused and considered this. "… and they wouldn't be far wrong if truth be told. I know they hate me for Power Placement and Save the Citizen, but fact is, I'm tough on them 'cause I've gotta be. 'Cause they've gotta be. If life were to suddenly get fair, it sure ain't gonna happen in high school. And life never does get fair. The sooner they learn that the better."

"And you're the glue that holds it all together, Estelle," he added in a gentler tone. "Teaching is the greatest gift we can give these kids. We know what it's like out there and we're the ones who can show them the way. What kind of heroes would we be if we didn't miss it? But we're still helping to save the world. Don't ever doubt that."

As Estelle wiped her eyes, Boomer tactfully inspected the contents of his wallet for a little longer than may have been necessary before ordering another round of drinks.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Mike," she said, squeezing his hand. Boomer's face suddenly felt unaccountably hot. Someone really needed to open some windows.

"No problem, I'm the coach. Pep talks are my speciality."

To lighten the mood, Boomer recounted his disastrous night of speed dating. But he omitted telling Estelle that Diana Hunter was there. Hunter was borderline psychotic. Moreover, Boomer was rather _attached_ to his arms and legs and he wanted to stay that way.

Estelle laughed till tears ran down her cheeks.

"I'm surprised someone like you needed to go on speed dating."

Through the whisky-induced haze, Boomer was faintly aware that Estelle was staring at him with a very odd look on her face.

_She's flirting with me, _he thought with increasing unease. _She _is _drunk. Bowl-huggingly drunk._

It was a teenage fantasy come true, but distorted by copious amounts of alcohol and about thirty years. Estelle Powers had been a senior when Mike Boomer was a scrawny freshman at Sky High. She had been the school president, the prom queen. As bright and beautiful as a shower of burning comets, and just as untouchable. He had a huge crush on her then and still nursed a bit of a soft spot for her now. _More than a soft spot_, Boomer admitted as he slugged down yet more Jack Daniels.

Estelle lurched forward and grabbed Boomer's hand, almost knocking her stool over.

"Come on," she giggled. "Let's find somewhere a little more interesting!"

* * *

"Where are we going?" 

"Like you said, Mike, the night is young," Estelle giggled again, stumbling as she tripped on a kerb.

She was leading Boomer through a part of town he generally avoided. The alarm bells ringing in his head were dulled by the way her fingers interlocked with his own. The quantity of drink he had consumed also played a part in helping Boomer ignore his better judgement.

Boomer physically felt the colour drain from his face when Estelle stopped and turned to him expectantly. Was she serious? He could not allow this to happen. He was drunk himself and the temptation was strong, but he had to resist.

"No, Estelle. I think this is a bad idea. You really don't want me to do this…"

"Oh yes I do! Come on!"

Her eyes gleamed in the dim lamplight. Boomer hesitated as he grappled with his conscience. Did she understand what she was asking him?

He eyed the lurid sign with the deepest suspicion. One of the most evil words ever coined in history flickered above them in pink neon.

_Karaoke._

"A bit of singing never hurt anyone!"

Boomer sighed. She had clearly never heard his _Love Shack. _He had knocked a ten-man team of supervillains out cold with a powered-up version of the song back in '89. Agonising strains of _I Will Survive_ drifted out of the karaoke bar. Boomer shuddered. It really was as bad as he feared.

"I don't think you realise what you're asking…"

"Yes I do," she interrupted him. "I've always thought you have such a _sexy_ voice, Mike. Commanding, you might say." The overall flirtatious effect of her words was ruined by a loud hiccup.

Estelle Powers thought he was sexy?

What the hell, he thought. Even superheroes were allowed to dabble in the Dark Side sometimes. And if it was a way of getting closer to Estelle, maybe this was another necessary evil…

_**End**_


End file.
